Company, Single-Malt Whiskey, and Sex
by n0n0pants
Summary: It was Hermione Granger, of all people, who had suggested the arrangement. Draco moves in with Harry. Things pretty much deteriorate from there. Drarry. Draco's POV. Rated M for smut. You have been warned. Feedback is very much appreciated on this one.


**Company, Single-Malt Whiskey, and Sex**

[Author's note: This is my first time writing smut in a very, very long time. I wrote this piece as a warm-up for the upcoming smut in my main WIP, _The Cracked Cauldron_ (which you should read, I'm pretty proud of it) _._ Please be merciful with me. I would like to take this opportunity to thank my incredible beta, Matthew, who suffered through my grammatical errors and self-doubt throughout the crafting of this story. I sincerely hope you, my lovely readers, enjoy the fruit of our labor.]

It was Hermione Granger, of all people, who had suggested the arrangement. She had taken a desk job in the Goblin Liaison office after finishing Hogwarts, while Pansy's father had gotten her a secretary position there months before. Granger and Weasley were moving in together; she was concerned that Potter, who had been living with Weasley up until that point, would self-destruct without someone looking after him. At the time, I was technically living with my parents at the Manor, but I spent most nights in Pansy's guest bedroom. Pansy, the meddlesome woman she is, mentioned this to the future Mrs. Weasley, who hatched the brilliant idea that I should move in with Harry Potter. Me. Draco Malfoy. The one person alive Harry Potter hates most.

Flash forward to one month later, as Potter was awkwardly showing me to my new bedroom. I swear Pansy could talk me into doing just about anything.

As far as roommates go, Harry Potter is actually a pretty good one. He's quiet, he enjoys cooking for the entire household, and he's relaxed about getting gold for rent on time. Not to mention the fact he's got a house elf that happily cleans any and all messes made by either of us and simply _adores_ me. The only real drawbacks are the fact that he's got a nasty temper (which was no surprise to me), he's a bit of an alcoholic (which was a surprise, initially, but given his history I can't say I blame him), and the fact that he constantly has people over.

When I first moved in, it was mostly just Granger and Weasley. They'd come around for dinner a few nights a week and chat away at the dinner table like I wasn't even there. To their credit, Potter and Granger would occasionally try to rope me into their inane conversations, but it was like trying to hop on a broom mid-flight. A broom that was obsessed with wedding planning, inside jokes, and Ministry gossip. Things got better once Pansy began coming to these meals. To everyone's surprise, she and Granger had become fast friends at work, and Pansy's cold, blunt personality was a welcome addition to the otherwise sickeningly nurturing atmosphere.

It got significantly worse once Potter became more or less accustomed to my presence in the house. It was at that point that he began bringing people home from the pub, where he went nightly after dinner. And, believe me, these people were not over for a nightcap.

What surprised me most was not the sheer number of partners Potter managed to bring home with him; it's Harry fucking Potter, for fuck's sake. Witches all over Britain would trade their wands for a night with him. No, it was the variety. Potter, it seemed, was not picky in terms of gender when it came to sexual conquests. Being thoroughly homosexual myself, it didn't really bother me, per se, but it was certainly surprising the first morning I walked into the kitchen to find a half naked man bashfully sipping tea from my favorite mug while Potter watched for my reaction.

"Be sure to wash that mug as soon as you're done with it, I don't want it to stain."

Potter visibly relaxed, and shot me a grin. I'll never forget it, because though we'd been living together in that townhouse for six months, that was the first time he'd ever actually smiled at me. That was the moment my feelings for him began to warm.

I had fancied him while we were at Hogwarts. I had known that what I wanted was impossible because I was the gay son of a Death Eater and he was the consummate heterosexual hero (or so I thought). I dealt with my feelings with all the maturity and grace of a petulant child, and managed to largely let go of them during and after the war. The initial months of cohabitation gave me further reasons to let go of my feelings; Potter was always drinking, and when he wasn't drinking he was either working, with friends, or sulking. Not boyfriend material at all.

But that damn dimpled smile put a crack in the dam I had built to keep those feelings at bay, and sure enough things began to deteriorate after that.

After that morning two things happened. The first was Potter began bringing men home almost exclusively; I began to wonder if he had only been sleeping with women for my benefit. The second was that Potter became much more friendly toward me. Our conversations, once restricted to small talk and household needs, were suddenly frequent and spontaneous. He began skipping the pub a few nights a week to stay home and drink with me.

"I thought you might be lonely here all by yourself." His green eyes sparkle when he smiles, the bastard.

He learned what my favorite dishes are, then learned to make them. He bought himself a trolley to hold liquor bottles, glasses, and decanters, and made sure to stock it with my favorite wines as well. He remembered every fact about myself I'd ever revealed to him. He was considerate and kind to me, without ever becoming overbearing like his friends.

And every strange man in my kitchen the morning after he fucked them felt more and more like a punch to the gut.

Things became worse still when he and I began sleeping together. He couldn't find a date to Granger and Weasley's wedding, he told me, he was wondering if I wanted to go with him. He was visibly nervous, doing that stupid, charming, hair-ruffling thing he always did when he wasn't certain he was going to get his way. I told him I would think about it. He bit his lip and had the audacity to look disappointed.

"Oh, darling, you simply _must_ accept!" Pansy gushed over tea the next day, "This could be your big chance!"

"What if I don't want it? What if I don't want to be a one night stand?"

"Darling, he invited you to a wedding. As his _date."_

"You're right, no one's ever asked anyone on a date without fully intending on committing to them long-term. Whatever was I thinking? We might as well pen our own wedding invitations now, would you be my maid of honor?"

"Hush, you dramatic ponce. He's not an idiot," I gave her a Look. "Well, he's not _that_ idiotic at least. You two live together; things would become terribly messy if you started sleeping together with no real plans to commit. It's always the way with two people too stupid to realize they're mad for each other."

"He isn't mad for me, Pansy, he's mad for company, single malt whiskey, and sex."

"Aren't we all?"

In the end I found myself seated beside Pansy in the back of a congregation of redheads and people I had actively tried to harm only a few years before. To her credit, Granger looked radiant in her muggle-style wedding dress. Still though, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Potter, standing behind Weasley looking the happiest I'd ever seen him. He caught me staring just after the vows and winked at me. Bastard.

Once the reception was underway, Potter went from being a very attentive best man to being an even more attentive date. We talked and danced and laughed all night. Though neither of us were ever without a chilled glass of champagne in hand, he didn't get terribly drunk. More than once I caught Pansy looking at me smugly, and I was strangely pleased to notice the new Mrs. Weasley and her sister-in-law looking at us approvingly. I wasn't sure what exactly to make of that.

Everyone applauded as the bride and groom left the party in a horse-drawn carriage, and I saw my opportunity to leave without making a fuss. As I attempted to dislodge myself from the crowd, however, a slender hand grabbed my wrist. It was Weasley's younger sister. Ginny, I remembered belatedly, having heard her name a thousand times during dinner with Potter and his friends. She did not smile as she held me there, but her eyes showed no sign of any negative emotion.

"I know he can be a bit of a screw up sometimes," her voice was soft but I had no trouble hearing her, "Don't run off though. He's really been looking forward to tonight. I think it'll be different, this time. I can tell you want that too."

Was I really so transparent? I sneered. "You don't know anything about it."

She laughed, but not cruelly. "Harry and I were each other's first love, and now he's practically my brother. We have no secrets. And you've gone soft since Hogwarts. Much easier to read." she released my wrist. "Try a little faith, Malfoy."

Before I could reply, she disappeared into the crowd. I saw her moments later, arm in arm with Luna Lovegood, their matching bridesmaids dresses floating around them as they walked, like pale yellow smoke.

"They make a lovely couple, don't they?" I nearly jumped out of my skin as Potter appeared suddenly beside me, handing me yet another glass of champagne and looking wistful. "That's why it didn't work with me and her. I was so angry at first but… well, look at them. That's the real thing. That's what Ron and Hermione have."

"You still love her."

He smiled. "Not like that, not anymore. When she ditched me for Luna I kind of did some soul searching. I realized that she was the only woman I would ever love like that. Men, on the other hand…" he looked at me. "Men offer something else entirely. Something much more appealing."

The curve of his lips was wicked as he spoke, and I felt my face heat up. I decided to blame the champagne. "And what is that?"

Potter honestly smirked as he set his champagne down on a nearby table. "How about we go home so I can explain it properly?"

My gut instinct told me to flee, that going any further down the path Potter was heading was sure to end in ruin. But a Ginny Weasley's voice floated through my consciousness, "try a little faith"; before I could think better of it, I took his hand and we Apparated home.

As soon as we arrived in our living room, his mouth was on mine. In some small part of my brain I regretted that our first kiss lacked romance, but the rest of me was filled with elation. This was really happening. In real life. In _my_ misbegotten life. His mouth tasted like champagne and his hands smelled like smelled like tobacco as he held my face.

 _Huh, I wasn't aware Potter smoked._

 _Focus, Draco._

I nearly stumbled as he gently pushed me backwards onto the couch. Once I sat down, he straddled my hips and began unbuttoning my dress robes, kissing me all the while. With some effort, I tore my lips away from his.

"Would you like for me to…" I gestured at his robes. He smiled and shook his head.

"Let me take care of you. I've been looking forward to this."

I felt my eyebrows raise of their own accord. "Sure of yourself were you?"

"I have it on good authority you're just as interested as I am," he laughed.

"Pansy. That bit- oh." My annoyance and the rest of my words were lost as Potter latched his mouth onto my now exposed collar bone. He kissed his way down my torso, sliding himself off of my lap and kneeling onto the floor. He slid his hands into my briefs and looked up at me. His eyes were bright and clear, and his lips were pink and just slightly swollen. He looked edible, fully clothed between my knees while I sat back with open robes. I wanted more. "Please," I whispered.

He didn't need any further prompting. Moments later the briefs were torn off and cast aside. If I live a thousand years, I will never forget the sight of Harry Potter sucking me off that first time. The sight of his lips stretched, pink and shiny with saliva, around my cock. His mouth was skilful, and I tried desperately to forget how many times he'd done this before. It wasn't difficult, because soon he was talking my entire length down his throat and I could barely think of my own name. I ran my fingers through his hair as his head bobbed up and down, his tongue swirling around the head with each pass. He was moaning - tiny, muffled, hungry sounds that caused me to jolt from the fantastic vibrations they caused. His fingernails dug into my thighs and some part of my brain registered that I would likely have bruises there the next day. I didn't care. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer, and I tried to let him know.

"P-Potter… I'm-"

He abruptly stopped sucking me, his mouth pulling away with a wet _pop._ He pulled himself up to my eye level, and captured my mouth in a bruising kiss. He tasted like sweat and sex. I felt my cock jerk.

"Do you want me to fuck you tonight?" He whispered against my lips. I nodded weakly. "Stop calling me Potter. Tonight, I'm Harry. Any time we do this, I'm Harry. Understood?" I nodded again, a tiny bubble of hope in my chest forming at the prospect of this happening again. "Good. I'm going to go back to sucking your cock now. I want you to fuck my mouth until you're finished."

He pecked my lips before resuming, and I tried my best to thrust into his mouth when he did. My knees were weak, and I was somehow even closer from the scolding. Ten thrusts, maybe fifteen, and I came, crying out his name. He swallowed every drop, moaning and sighing. He looked up at me and offered a wicked smile. The next thing I knew, his hands were on my ass, pulling me to the very edge of the couch.

"Put your legs on my shoulders," he panted, "Gotta get you ready."

Hesitantly, I did as I was told. The moment I'd gained my footing, his head disappeared from view and I felt his tongue slide up my crack.

Let it never be said that Harry Potter is a selfish lover. As he sucked, licked, and nibbled at my hole, I felt myself harden again. Just when I thought I wouldn't be able to handle any more, I felt him push his tongue inside me. The feeling was novel, to be sure. Wet, warm, and soft. And incredible. No one had ever eaten me out before, but fuck if I wasn't an instant addict. It took me a moment to realize that the wanton moans I was hearing were coming from my own mouth. I used my hands to spread myself wider for him, trying desperately to convey my need for _more_ without words. He understood well enough. He fucked me with his tongue, lapping at my entrance between each thrust. Too soon he pulled away, drawing his wand and flicking it in the general direction of his bedroom. A bottle flew around the corner into his waiting palm, and he tucked his wand away.

"I've always envied your summoning charms," I said, somewhat stupidly.

He laughed quietly and poured some of the bottle's contents onto his fingers. He rubbed his hands together, then slid one finger into me. I moaned again, fisting the fabric of the couch cushions. He gently, patiently, slid in and out a few times before adding another digit. He began twisting them as he fingered me, occasionally curling them just enough to touch my prostate briefly before pulling away again.

"God, Draco, you look incredible. I want to fuck you," he breathed, his eyes damn eyes sparkling again.

"Please," I whimpered, my eyes closing of their own accord. I regretted it immediately, as he pulled his fingers out of me in order to take off his robes. "No, let me…"

He shook his head. "Tonight I'm taking care of you. Maybe next time." The bubble of hope swelled larger.

He smeared lube all over his dress robes as he pulled them off, but even the death of a perfectly fine garment wouldn't deter me from watching the show. His movements were slow and deliberate, and he never looked away from me as I admired every inch of newly revealed skin. His torso was toned and dark, with small pale scars marring the otherwise flawless expanse of flesh. From work, I guessed, or perhaps from fighting the Dark Lord. They only added to his air of strength, and in that moment I had never been more turned on. His cock was a lovely sight as well. Comparable in size to my own (I'd never admit it to him, but it was perhaps a little bit bigger), thick, and a dusky pink at the head. I wanted to taste it, but that was not his plan tonight. He reached into the pocket of his discarded robe and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth. He pulled out the contents, small rubbery circle, and rolled it onto his cock.

"What on Earth is that?" I asked before I could help myself.

He raised his eyebrows, "Have you really never used a condom? It's for protection."

"I'm not going to hurt you," I knew that I was ruining the moment, but I was so incredibly confused. I wanted to feel Potter - Harry - inside of me but how could I with that thing on him?

He smiled and kissed me. "I'll explain the details later. It's a muggle thing. You'll like it, I promise."

I nodded, still cautious. "Okay. I'll trust you. This once."

He smiled again and took my hand in his. With his free hand, he guided his sheathed cock to my entrance, easing himself inside slowly. The condom was covered in small studs, it seemed; though it was thoroughly lubed, every passing inch caused an intense, highly pleasant friction. I felt full, fuller than I had ever felt with another lover. I sensed that it had less to do with what exactly was filling me and more to do with who was doing it.

"Harry," I groaned, rolling my hips to further enjoy the fullness inside.

"Gonna fuck you now," For the first time that night, his voice had lost its veneer of control. "Can't wait any more."

I spread my legs wider as an invitation. He pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, thrusting himself right into my prostate. I heard myself cry out in pleasure, but he didn't seem to notice. He pounded into me mercilessly, occasionally leaning forward to plant sloppy kisses wherever he could reach.

"Fuck, Harry. Mm, yes, just like that," I had no idea what I was saying, all I knew was that I wanted it to go on forever. I wanted to spend every moment of the rest of my life feeling his cock moving inside of me.

"Ah," he hissed, still holding my hand tightly, "Oh, God, Draco. So beautiful. So… fucking… tight…" His eyes were sparkling again and they roamed all over my face. Normally I don't enjoy being stared at during sex, but this didn't feel like scrutiny. He looked like he was in awe. I blossomed under his gaze.

I was amazed to feel myself close to climax again, so soon after such a spectacular blow job.

"Harry, I'm going to come again," I managed to moan.

"Good," he panted. "I wanna watch you come from getting fucked. I wanna watch you come from _me_ fucking you."

I moaned again and his pace, somehow, increased. My back was sore from the angle at which he had me on the couch but I didn't care. Soon, embarrassingly soon, I was coming again, screaming his name this time. He followed shortly after, grunting and moaning out my name.

I was content to lay in the afterglow with him inside me, but he made short work of pulling out and sitting back on the floor. He pulled the condom off with a _snap,_ and disposed of it with a quick _evanesco_ before turning his wand to me and doing the same with the come on my stomach. He grinned at me goofily.

"That was fun," he was breathless, and his cheeks were flushed.

"That it was," I agreed. "That condom thing is fantastic. You were right."

"That happens occasionally," he laughed and scooped up the rumpled pile of clothing beside him. "Well, I'm for bed. Goodnight."

And with that he went to his room, shutting the door behind him. And in that moment, I felt empty. Emptier than I ever had with another lover.

Over the next few days, I tried to convince myself that perhaps he'd wanted to go slowly with what I had assumed was our new relationship. But he looked at me strangely every time I called him Harry. He gave no signal that he wished for me to kiss him. He acted exactly as he had prior to the wedding. And then, not even a week later I woke up to find another random man drinking tea in my kitchen. On the outside, I remained calm. He had never mentioned anything of exclusivity, and it was really my fault for assuming. Still, on the inside I burned with something akin to betrayal. I resolutely refused to talk to him, spending most of my time outside of work at Pansy's or the Manor.

Until one night, after I returned home to find him waiting for me. He pounced on me as soon as I had opened the door, taking me in his arms. It had been over a month since he'd touched me last.

"You've been bad," he purred into my ear.

I wanted to hex him. "Have I? What have you been then?"

"Missing you." He took my chin in his hand and kissed me.

The righteous tongue lashing I was about to give, telling him to fuck right off to Hell, disappeared before it could begin. And I let him take me to bed. And again the next night, and the night after that. From that point, most nights would find me on my back on the couch, on the floor, and even sometimes in my bed, with Harry above me, fucking me until I saw stars. Never his bed though. That was reserved for the other nights, the nights he'd bring men home from the pub. I consoled myself that it was never the same man twice, I was the only one who had ever had him more than once. That must have meant something. It had to.

By the beginning of our third year living together, I was deeply depressed. Potter still fucked me most nights, and I let him, even though it killed me a little more every time he rolled off of me and went into his own room, closing the door behind him.

"Move out, darling," Pansy told one night as we split a bottle of wine. "You can easily afford your own place. You can't let him do this to you any more."

"It's not his fault. He's not doing anything wrong. I'm the idiot that -" I stopped myself and sipped my wine.

Pansy reached out and patted my arm. "I know you love him, Draco, but sometimes that isn't enough. You must know that."

It was worst after I moved out. I did it in secret, and left him a brief farewell note with my key the rest of my share of the year's rent. I got myself a one bedroom flat a few blocks away. I didn't know if I wanted him to find me, but I wanted him to have the chance. I quit my job and started a new one. I began taking night courses to become a Healer. I brunched with my parents, lunched with my coworkers, and went for after dinner drinks with Pansy at the fanciest, most expensive bars we could find. I spent as little time in that apartment as possible. Though I had decorated it tastefully, there was an aching, tangible emptiness in the form of one green-eyed, free-loving bastard.

It was a rare night that I stayed in after Healer training, the night before Christmas Eve, that I received a knock at my door. I went to answer it without hesitation, assuming it was the Chinese delivery I had ordered on my way home. I definitely didn't expect who actually was there: Ginny Weasley, holding what smelled like the fried rice I was waiting for.

"I paid the bloke for you; may I come in?"

"You're not going to give me my food if I say no, are you?"

"Ten points to Slytherin," she laughed, and I couldn't help but smile.

"All right, Weasley, you drive a hard bargain."

"It's actually Weasley-Lovegood now; I would very much rather you called me Ginny. I love my wife, but the last names are a mouthful together." she stepped past me into the flat, handing me my food as she did so.

My eyebrows flew up. "Congratulations," I offered, and I meant it. It felt strangely good that at least someone's love story was getting a happy ending. Even if it wasn't mine. Ginny, Luna, and I had all gotten along pretty well while I had lived with Potter, and I was happy for them.

"Thank you, but I'm not here to talk about myself."

I sighed. I didn't think she was. "Let me change my clothes and eat a little bit, I've only just gotten here myself. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen." She nodded and left me to it.

It wasn't long before we were seated on opposite sides of my kitchen table, sipping chardonnay.

"I see you're in Healer training right now." I nodded. "Do you like it?"

I shrugged. "It's good to feel useful. Having something challenging to occupy my mind helps."

"Is that why this place feels like it's not lived in? You've been occupying your mind?"

"Something like that," I admitted, setting my wine down.

"What did he do, Draco?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's been a wreck ever since you left, going spare trying to find you, but you're worse. You look like a shadow. He's confused and desperate, but you're…" she trailed off.

"I think the term is heartbroken. I could be mistaken."

Her brown eyes hardened. "What did he do to you?" she asked, her voice cold.

Perhaps I was touched by her show of affection for me, or perhaps it was her anger towards Potter, but I told her everything. Three years of foolishness on my part, and full stop stupidity on his. She didn't say a word through the whole thing, she simply sat there and listened unflinchingly. When I finished, she stood from her seat and quickly crossed around the table, wrapping me in a hug, her face pressed into my shoulder.

"Do you want me to fix this? Or would you like to move on?" her words were muffled, but I understood her just fine.

"I… don't know. Both."

She pulled away and placed a hand on either side of my face. "I can only help with one or the other. Which would you like?"

As I stared at her I was reminded of a night almost three years prior. Of her telling me to try a little faith.

 _One last try._

"Fix it. Please," I whispered.

She nodded and stood to leave. "It won't be overnight, but I know he's mad for you too. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

I didn't know what to say, but I settled on thanking her.

"Don't thank me, I'm about to set you up with the biggest fuck up I know."

And with that she was gone. True to her word, it did take longer than I'd hoped for anything to happen. Six weeks, in fact, until a pale blue owl knocked at my window one February morning.

 _ **Draco,**_

 _ **Hope your holidays were good. I think we've had a breakthrough. No pub visits for a month, no interest in finding a new roommate, Ron reports he's not been shagged since just after you left. He and Hermione are rooting for you, too, by the way. So's Luna.**_

 _ **Please come over to our place (address is on the envelope) this Saturday at 7pm for a birthday party for Luna. I'm aware this weekend is Valentine's Day, sorry. She didn't have any say in when she'd be born. (I'm not sorry, use it to your advantage.)**_

 _ **Please don't hex Harry when you see him there, as I already punched him in the eye Christmas Morning, and he's been going mad over the fact that I know where you live and he doesn't.**_

 _ **See you this weekend.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Ginevra Weasley-Lovegood**_

 _ **P.S. Don't mind Lysander. He bit me, so the blue is Luna's idea of a punishment. She says he'll be very embarrassed now because he looks silly. I think he looks kind of cool. Don't tell him that, though, tell him he looks silly. Thanks.**_

I wrote a short response confirming my attendance, and made sure to insult the bird for good measure. The creature hung its head in shame for a moment before flying off.

For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. The week flew by,and Pansy remarked more than once on my good mood.

"What is it you're not telling me, darling?" she asked over tea on Thursday. She gasped. "Have you meet someone new?"

"No, of course not, you silly cow. And honestly I'm shocked Grang- er, Weasley hasn't told you about it, the way you two carry on."

"Draco we've been friends with them for years now, you really must let go of the surname thing… wait, what would Hermione know about it that I wouldn't?" she narrowed her eyes. "No. You're not going back to him. I won't allow it."

"You aren't my keeper."

"I am your _best friend._ For more than eighteen years. I will not allow it." She gasped again, "This weekend is Valentine's Day. No, no, no. I'm taking you to France, you are staying far away from that man this weekend and hopefully for the rest of your life. You will get over this, and you will find someone smarter, hotter, richer, and better than him. No way. Not again."

I felt a rush of affection for her. "We'll miss Luna's party." I reminded her.

"Shit! Wait, you don't ever go to the parties, how do you know…" she gasped a third time, "Ginny! You've been letting other women meddle in your affairs!"

"I apparently needed a Potter expert. She's sorted him out for me, I suppose."

Pansy huffed and nibbled on a chocolate biscuit. "I'll forgive you this once, but I reserve the right to rub it in your face if this goes belly up."

"I would expect no less."

Two nights later found me at Pansy's fireplace, wondering whether or not I should step into the floo. She was standing beside me, holding my hand in a firm grip.

"We don't have to do this. We can buy a case of champagne and drink it all ourselves. We can buy a male escort. Hell, France is still an option if you're up for it."

I shook my head, "No, I want this. I'm just…"

She reached past me and grabbed a fistful of floo powder. "Don't be afraid, darling, we're all on your side. And I'll be right there with you."

Once we arrived, I was ambushed by an afro of bushy brown curls as Hermione Weasley wrapped me in a tight hug.

"Draco! Oh, we were ever so worried when you disappeared like that! I'm so glad to see you!" Was spontaneous hugging a Gryffindor trait? "Harry isn't here yet; he doesn't know you're coming. Ron, would you introduce Draco to everyone before Harry arrives? Pansy! I _must_ tell you what happened after you left yesterday…"

As she turned to Pansy, her husband shuffled over and offered me his hand. I shook it.

"Good to see you, mate. Pansy tells us you're in Healer training?" I nodded. "You'll be brilliant at it. Come on, let's make the rounds before my git of a best friend gets here and makes a scene."

Weasley paraded me around the room, introducing the other guests one by one. Some I recognized from Hogwarts, others because they were well-known Quidditch players, and some were complete strangers, friends of Luna from her work at the _Quibbler._ As we were wrapping up the round of introductions, the floo flared green. For a moment, I feared that it was Potter making his arrival, but it was only Neville Longbottom, followed by a woman I recognized as another of my classmates at school.

"Ah, Neville, excellent. You're just in time," Weasley said, guiding me to the new arrivals. "You remember Draco Malfoy of course."

Longbottom regarded me warily before turning back to Weasley. "Yes, I was told he'd likely be here. Ginny should be here with the cake shortly. I've never seen the elves so excited for a task before. I guess Luna was a good friend to them back at school."

"Of course she was," I laughed, that sounded exactly like her. "She still calls Kreacher 'sir', or at least she did last time I saw them together."

Longbottom seemed surprised. "That's our Luna for you," he replied, smiling hesitantly.

"Indeed it is. By the way, congratulations. I've heard you're going to take over Professor Sprout's position when she retires next year. I can't think of a more suitable replacement."

His surprise turned to shock. "Blimey, Malfoy. Most people don't even know she's retiring! Where'd you hear that?"

"St. Mungo's gets a lot of rare potion ingredients from Hogwarts' greenhouses. Some of the Healers were concerned you weren't up to the task, but I set them straight."

"Are you a Healer now?" the woman behind him asked curiously.

"Trainee. I'll be certified this time next year if all goes well. I'm working as a Welcome Wizard in Spell Damage in the meantime."

"Sounds like it's a lot of work. You look exhausted."

"Neville…" Weasley sighed with annoyance.

"It's quite all right," I laughed tiredly, "The work itself is fine, I just have very exhausting acquaintances. How about you? What's occupying your time before you take the position?"

"Just helping Pomona out around the greenhouses, working in the Forbidden Forest a bit with Hannah," he gestured to his companion. ( _Hannah Abbott, that's right_.) "It's been nearly five years but there's still quite a bit of damage from… well, you know."

I nodded somberly. "About that -"

Longbottom held up a hand. "Don't. Tonight's about celebrating Luna. You're here to do that, standing beside Ron Weasley and having a perfectly friendly conversation with me. I can see things have changed," he offered me his hand, which I immediately took. "I'm looking forward to knowing you more, Draco."

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. I settled on making a getaway, my old standby. "Excuse me."

I wandered away, into a corridor that appeared to lead to the front door. The walls there were a shimmering gold, and covered in framed photographs of Ginny and Luna, both together and at varying stages of their lives prior to their relationship. There was a group photo from their Hogwarts days, labeled ' _Dumbledore's Army, 1996_ ' in neat handwriting. Another depicted Ginny, Luna, and several others at the beach, burying Longbottom in the sand, labeled ' _Happy Birthday, Neville! 1999_ '. Another still showed Ginny and Luna in matching blue dresses and white peony flower crowns, surrounded by the Weasleys, Potter, Fleur Delacour, of all people, and a man who must be Luna's father. The crowd was in varying states of dress but all were also wearing flower crowns, theirs made of baby's breath. The label had initially read ' _Our SURPRISE Wedding! 2002'_ but that had been scratched out and replaced with ' _Happily Ever After'_ in a much messier scrawl. To my surprise, I found a photo of myself. I didn't remember the photo being taken, but I remembered the moment it captured. It was nearly Christmas and I had still been living with Potter. The two witches had come over for dinner and drinks that night, and after dinner decided that I had to pay for the misdeeds of my past. So Ginny had tackled me to the floor while Luna proceeded to muss up my hair. In the photo, the couple smiled and winked at the camera while I laughed, eyes firmly shut. The label read ' _REVENGE! 2000_ '. I was touched.

At that moment, I noticed the walls were not a shimmering gold as I initially assumed. They were a yellowy cream, with the one word written a million times in shimmering gold ink, in the same handwriting as the labels on the photographs.

 _Love. Love. Love. Love. Love._

Just as I felt a lump rise to my throat, Pansy poked her head around the corner.

"There you are! Ginny, Luna, and arsehole are almost here. Get back to the party." she studied me for a moment. "Did you find yourself on here? There's one of me somewhere too. Luna's something, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is."

It couldn't have been more than five minutes later that the guest of honor arrived with Potter and Ginny in tow. She was thrilled by the surprise, and made sure to thank each of us individually with a hug and several kisses to the face. Her breath smelled of gin and peppermint. I made sure to avoid looking at Potter, determined to look like I was having fun.

"You look like you're having fun." I jumped. The trouble with not looking at him was the fact that I couldn't see him sneaking up on me. I looked at him as coolly as I could manage.

"I am, thank you." My heart was hammering in my chest. Even in his obviously distressed state, he was gorgeous. I didn't know what to do. I looked for Pansy and tried to signal for help with my eyes. Luckily we'd been best friends long enough that she knew immediately what to do and came to my rescue.

"Draco, darling," she floated over to my side, nudging Potter away, "I need you for a moment."

I wordlessly followed her into another room, which turned out to be the lavatory.

"What on Earth is wrong with you?" she hissed. "I am using all my willpower to not cuss him out in front of everyone, for _your benefit_ , and then when you have the chance to get him alone you bow out? Do you want the man or not?"

"I do! I just," I sighed "I want him on my terms. Last time, he was in control, he always had the upper hand, and we did everything on his terms. I want to control how this starts, because I know I'm just going to bend to his will later. I want to make my needs clear before we do anything else."

She huffed and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. "So tell him that. What happened to the boy who was never afraid to keep Potter on his toes?"

"He grew up and let Potter quite literally fuck him in the ass."

"Don't be crude, darling." she smirked. "You know what your mother would say right now? There isn't a man alive who should stop your happiness. Never again. Go out there and let the bastard know who's boss."

She was right. We left the lavatory and I strode purposefully over to Potter, who was sitting in a corner, sipping single malt whiskey straight from the bottle. He was sulking, and the other guests were doing their best to pay no attention to him. As I approached, he scowled at me. "What do you want?" he snapped, taking another swig from the bottle.

"A word. In private, if you don't mind."

"So _now_ you want to talk to me?" He set the bottle aside. "Six months and _now_ you're ready to talk?"

"Yes, now I'm ready." I replied calmly. "Shall we go for a walk?"

"It's freezing outside."

"Do you actually care?"

He considered it for a moment before shaking his head. I summoned my cloak and offered it to him. He accepted it and followed me out of the house.

The night was clear and cold, but thankfully not windy. I cast a warming charm on myself for good measure. Beside me, Potter was staring at the ground gloomily. This was not the man that broke my heart last year. This was the boy I hated to love, back in school. A beautiful man filled with anger, sadness and regret. I almost regretted being the one to do that to him. Almost.

"I wanted so much more than what we had," I said, after the silence became too much. "I loved you, you know. Back at Hogwarts. I thought it was impossible to ever have you. Then we started living together and then _sleeping_ together, and I stupidly let myself think that maybe it wasn't impossible. But you proved me right. I couldn't have you, not in the way I needed you. So I cut my losses. Can you really blame me?"

He laughed humorlessly, "No, I can't. And I know it doesn't make any of it better, but I had no idea. Ginny told me that she went by your new place. That you told her everything about us." he looked up at me. "Why didn't you tell me how you were feeling?"

"I didn't think I needed to, in the very beginning. I thought we'd be, you know," I shrugged, "Together, I suppose. But you made it clear that wasn't the case. Kind of. Except we weren't _not_ together, were we? You never slept with anyone more than once, except me. Why?"

It was his turn to shrug. "At first it was convenient. You were there, you were beautiful, you were good at it. We were friends. It was just fun. After a while, I started to want something more, but you were… I don't know. Cold? Withdrawn? You seemed like you didn't want more from me, and I didn't want to push it. Then you left, and I knew it was my fault. You didn't say so, but you didn't have to."

"If you wanted me, you should have stopped sleeping with other men," I said, wincing at the pain in my voice.

"Probably. I was trying to get some distance. All I could think of was you, though. That's why I never let you into my bed. I didn't want to picture you there when I was trying so hard to get you off my mind."

"I wish you'd said something. We could have had so much time."

"We could still," he looked at me. Was he crying? "I've been trying. I've stopped going out. I can't even look at anyone else now. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I don't want to live like this anymore. I'm so sorry, Draco."

I felt my resolve crumbling. "Things will have to be different this time."

"They will be, I promise."

"It's got to be me. Only me. And if you're going out, I want to come with you. And we're going to go places I want to go just as often."

"Anything you want."

"And I'm going to stay in my apartment until my lease is up."

"Draco, no." his voice cracked. "I want you to come home."

"I don't want to be your choice because it's convenient. I want to be inconvenient and I want you to want me just the same. It's only another six months, and I'm a ten minute walk away. I'm sorry, but it has to be this way."

He sniffed and nodded. "I get it. It's fine. Whatever you need, I'll agree to it. I just need you back."

I turned to him and closed the gap between us. He dried his eyes with the sleeve of my cloak and looked up at me. I'd never really noticed how much taller than him I was. I kissed him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and felt him press himself flush against my chest. Kissing him again after so long felt like the first time I'd ever tasted champagne. Not as sweet as I'd imagined, but somehow infinitely better. I smiled against his mouth. "Let's go back to your place," I whispered,pulling away.

He looked sheepish. "It's a bit gloomy there. After you left, I sort of Vanished everything that reminded me of you."

"What's left?" I asked. I had lived there three years, after all.

"My bedroom furniture and the kitchen appliances."

"That's good enough," I replied, Apparating us directly into his bedroom.

I didn't give him time to gain his footing. As soon as we arrived, I began kissing him again and undoing the front of his robes, casting each layer aside as I went. Once he was fully undressed, I took off my own clothing, pleased to see his growing erection as I did. He pulled me over to his bed, latching his lips to mine. We lay down, side by side, never breaking the kiss. I felt his hand softly roaming up and down my back, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

"Please don't ever leave me again." he whispered, his voice trembling.

"I'm yours," I whispered back. "As long as you're mine."

"For as long as you'll have me."

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around my cock. I shut my eyes as he began stroking me,losing myself in the sensation of his touch. I'd missed that. I felt him move beside me, wrapping his other arm around me and grabbing my ass. He toyed with my hole, gently caressing it, a promise of what was to come. The hand on my shaft moved faster.

"Draco," he moaned. "Can I fuck you? Please, I need-"

"Yes," I gasped. I didn't particularly care what exactly it was he needed. I knew I would provide it.

The hands on me disappeared as he scooted away to grab a (sealed, I was glad to see) bottle of lube. "On your back. Please." He put a hand on my hip and I did as he instructed.

It had been far too long since he'd last eaten me out. His tongue darted around and into my hole. Where he had been skilful in the past, that night his movements were desperate, erratic. What he lacked in technique, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. I cried out as his tongue penetrated me, his chin stubble scratching my crack as he did so.

"Harry!" I cried out, grinding myself onto his face. He moaned appreciatively and grabbed my cheeks, burying his face deeper in. Just as I was about to come, he pulled away. I heard myself whimper.

"Just a moment, love," He murmured. Like I'd never learned anything, my heart skipped a beat over his choice of words. He applied a liberal amount of lube to my entrance, rolled a condom on, and was about to enter me when I stopped him.

"Lay back," I instructed him. "I want to ride you."

He groaned and fell to his side, hastily rolling onto his back. I straddled his hips, lining my cock up to his. I slid myself against him, rolling my head back at the feeling.

"Hng," he grunted, "Draco I need you. Let me fuck you."

I was more than ready to comply. I reached behind me to grasp his length. I widened my knees and eased myself down onto him. We both sighed, and I gyrated, making him brush against my prostate. He bucked his hips up, pushing himself impossibly deeper.

"Come on, Harry, take me."

He wasted no time; he pumped into me with fervor. His eyes were screwed shut, and his mouth was quirked into an open mouthed grin. He was moaning softly with each thrust.

"I… ah, fuck, I missed you so much." I moaned, running my hands across his chest.

"Likewise," he grunted, opening his eyes. They were sparkling. For the first time, I felt joy, not annoyance, at the sight of them. I reached for my cock and began to stroke myself, drinking in every detail of the sight of Harry beneath me. "My God, you're beautiful," he sighed.

I chuckled. "Likewise."

When it was over, he came crying out my name, and I followed shortly after. I got off of him, and _Evanesco'd_ the condom, then went to grab my clothing.

"No," he whispered, grabbing me by the wrist. "Stay."

"I told you," I said, gently. "I'm keeping my apartment."

"I know. Just stay tonight. I'll stay over yours next time. We can take turns. I just need you next to me now."

I slept there that night, and we spent Valentine's Day together the next day. Ron and Hermione popped in around lunch, and both expressed their relief that the situation had worked itself out.

"Thank goodness," Ron breathed. "Let's make this the last big fuck up, eh mate? We want to start a family, and we can't chase after you if we've got kids."

Harry grinned. "I think I may be done fucking up my personal life for a while. And if I do, I'm sure Draco will set me straight."

"Good, because I'm bloody well deserving of a break at this point."

Things were good after that. I stayed in my apartment for the rest of my lease (though Harry slept over frequently), then Harry and I got a new place on the other side of town. We adopted a cat, I named him Hyperion. We adopted a dog, Harry named him Snuffles. Harry drank almost every night, and I joined him for most of them. He worried me sick working as an Auror, and I worried him sick pulling 20 hour shifts at St. Mungo's. Ron and Hermione had a daughter, Rose, and then a son, Hugo. Luna and Ginny adopted a baby girl, and named her Pandora. Neville got the nerve to ask Hannah out, and then the nerve to ask her to marry him. Pansy never married, but did give birth to a son, and named him after me. We never stopped having company, single-malt whiskey, and sex.

And all was well.


End file.
